


Edgelord Coffin

by Toshimasa



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Class Mounts, Design Choices, World of Warcraft: Legion Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshimasa/pseuds/Toshimasa
Summary: Why does the Deathlord's new mount have a coffin on his back?





	Edgelord Coffin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by sharm's new song "Class Mount", a parody of Shakira's "She Wolf". The title is taken directly from it.  
> The "plot" bit me and I did it despite having other things that should be my writing priority. Or maybe because of it, to motivate myself into writing more. I contemplated putting it into pure dialogue, but decided to leave it at this for the time being.  
> Have fun.

Thassarian greeted the Deathlord at the landing balcony. Back from their errand in Northrend, an enormous dragon was trailing behind them, already fully geared as a battle mount.  
“How bad is it?”  
The Deathlord blinked. “How bad is what?”  
“How bad does Wyrmrest want us all dead?”  
“Well, uh…” the younger knight fidgeted sheepishly. “I don’t know? It kinda depends.”  
“On what?” Thassarian asked, but quickly thought better of it. “Never mind, I do not want to know.” I did not avoid promotion for years to deal with this kind of trouble now, he pointedly did not say. Instead he eyed the dragon with cautious interest.  
The Deathlord looked around nervously. “Is the Highlord not here?”  
“He took the Horsemen down for training. But don’t think you can avoid that conversation for too long”, Thassarian said still focused on the dragon.  
Before the Deathlord could give a defensive retort, his attention was diverted by Koltira joining them. The elf scanned the huge dragon mount head to tail, turned to the Deathlord and asked the question that Thassarian had opted not to speak out.  
“Why does he have a giant coffin on his back?”  
The Deathlord gave him a Look. “It fits better than a trunk. I’ve got to store all the stuff everyone asks me to get for them somewhere, you know.”  
“Since when do you care about aesthetics?”  
“I mean with that form it’s easier to strap to his back than a chest!”  
“So the long, flat chest you got happened to be shaped like a coffin? Complete with that symbol on it?”  
“Shut up, Koltira!”  
Thassarian turned away so the Deathlord couldn’t see his grin. Koltira didn’t bother.

***

The Frostbrood Vanquisher flew down to Azuna, where the Deathlord intended to meet with some old comrades for another day of running around the isles to sabotage and kill the Legion and running errands for dorky allies. The Shadowblade and the Slayer were already waiting for them. The Netherlord was late, as usual, but they were in the company of the Farseer who was not part of their little group, but had been bribed to tag along and heal them. Various incidents over the last weeks had made them decide that bringing a healer was going to make their lives (and undeaths) a lot easier.  
The Deathlord was happy to see that it was the Farseer who would heal them. For one, shamans were the only healers that didn’t make them think getting healed was worse than the injuries. They actually hated druids and monks the most; while it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the light, it always made them feel light-headed and weak afterwards. On the other hand, while they didn’t know the Farseer personally, they’d heard the head of the Earthen Ring employed a former slave-owner as their bodyguard and had recruited Magatha Grimtotem of all people as a keep-your-enemies-closer-move. That sounded very much like a person the Death Knight could respect.  
Unable to resist temptation, the Deathlord let Kyranastrasz circle over their comrades in an attempt to show him off before landing.  
“Nice”, the Slayer said nonchalantly, standing next to what looked like a giant felbat with a fancy harness. The Deathlord took it as concealed jealousy.  
“You show-off”, the Shadowblade grinned. They didn’t seem to have a mount with them, but the Deathlord wasn’t sure how they travelled long distances and hadn’t been ever since they met. Sometimes they wondered if the rogue also had training as a mage and secretly teleported their way around.  
The Farseer stood on the harness of a large elemental hovering just above the ground - something the Deathlord tried hard to not be too impressed by - and regarded their new acquaintance and their mount with interest.  
“I’m not going to ask where you got him. I have a feeling that if I want to keep the Earthen Ring’s good relations with Wyrmrest, I should not know.”  
The Death Knight could only give a sheepish grin at that, but the Farseer didn’t dwell on the subject.  
“So, why does he have a coffin on his back?”  
The Slayer and the Shadowblade looked over for confirmation and roared with laughter.  
“A coffin? Seriously?” the Slayer coughed out between giggles.  
“I know you guys embrace the undead edgelord aesthetic”, the Shadowblade drawled, “but don’t you think you’re trying a little too hard?”  
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Laugh until your bags are full again and I’m the only one with a big chest that would fit all of your armour on my mount. See who laughs then,” the Deathlord huffed defensively.  
“So this is a storage box?” The Farseer grinned, but didn’t laugh. “Why not a normal chest? I’m sure you would find or be able to commission one that fit well on his back.”  
“I, ah, happened to have this one on hand” the Death Knight explained, uncomfortable with saying that sentence out loud.  
As expected, it prompted more laughter from their friends.  
“You happened to have a coffin on hand? Where did you find a giant coffin?” The Slayer was now holding the Shadowblade upright by the arm to keep them from collapsing; the rogue was beyond speech.  
The Deathlord sighed. “I found it in Haustvald. I think it’s Ashildir’s.”  
Their two friends were finally starting to calm down. The Farseer frowned.  
“I never heard of Vrykul using coffins. To my knowledge, they use crypts and pyres. It is fit for a Vrykul in size though…”  
“Yeah, I was surprised too, finding an empty coffin in a Vrykul town, and with a broken lock no less. But it’s why I think it’s Ashildir’s. She might have known about the possibility of her remains being used against her and had them protected in an unconventional fashion. But I don’t really know. I only kept it in hopes of finding out someday. But, well, it’s a nice, robust, large chest with a lock that was easily repaired.”  
“Oh come on”, the Shadowblade teased, “you can’t tell me strapping that thing to your shiny new undead dragon has nothing to do with it matching your Dark Edgy Undead Lord style.”  
“If you think I…”  
“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” The Netherlord greeted them astride their own new mount, appearing neither sorry nor in a particular hurry.  
It took the Deathlord a moment to take in the sight of their comrade and their new mount, staring in disbelief at the exceptional steed.  
“I know I have absolutely no high ground on you, particularly not in this, but… What in shadow’s name did you do to that poor horse?”


End file.
